


breakeven

by vineasphodel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:26:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vineasphodel/pseuds/vineasphodel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis wants to hurt Harry but ends up hurting himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	breakeven

The strong scent of grapefruit and vanilla lingered, wafted over the pillow case even after he was gone. Before the boy even attempted to open his eyes, he knew that the bed was absent and that Harry had left nothing but his scent in his wake and what a shitty reminder it was of him. Louis hated it. He hated it so much, that he could just get up and leave so easily, so fluidly as if there was nothing holding him back, nothing he wanted to hold onto most and would let it all slip in between his fingertips because it didn't mean anything to him.

But nothing had ever really meant something to him. That was what Harry's problem was, he couldn't hold onto something that was special and Louis groaned painfully until he was flat on his back, the white sheets covering half of his bare chest and his palms came to cover his rapidly heating cheeks.

Or at least that was what he wanted to believe. He wanted to come up with this perception of Harry, one that made him look like a complete dickhead so Louis didn’t have to feel so bad. One that made him seem like he had no fucking heart but truth be told, Harry had the biggest heart he had ever known. There was an ache within the confines of Louis’ chest and he knew. He knew that Harry was that happy-go-lucky kind of guy and yet as of late, Louis couldn’t stand him. More and more, he found himself frustrated with him, frustrated that Harry could think a simple change in their song lyrics or glance across the room could make Louis go weak in the knees and he was right but Louis couldn’t do it anymore, he couldn’t do it because it physically _hurt_ and he wanted to be with him so much but they made a mistake.

Fucking Harry. How fucking embarrassing.

It was one of those moments that Louis had thought he would not regret in the morning, that he would not have that pitiful emptiness in his stomach and a tightness in his chest. That for fucking once he could get up out of bed, still see that messy set of brunette curls, the black ink of his tattoos seen underneath the white linen sheets. He wanted to gaze upon his angelic face in the most vulnerable situation Louis could ever experience, a remembrance of the old days where they did this often enough that it was natural, fluid. The thought made the hole inside of his chest clench to the point that Louis had dropped his hands away from his face and down onto the flatness of his stomach. His gaze dusted over the ceiling and he had thought that for a split second he was about to cry, the corners of his eyes burning but closed them quicker than the tears could come.

The breakup had been terrible enough. This was a mistake, there was no denying that and all Louis wanted to do now was close his eyes tight enough so that he saw stars and hopefully this would all be some kind of dream. That the previous night hadn’t happened at all. But even in Harry’s absence, he was still there. He was in the crinkles of the sheets, he was on Louis’ skin and it hurt. It hurt so much and despite the fact that Louis wanted him back, there was no way he could get past it. There was no getting over it and no matter how much shit Louis gave Harry for it, it was never enough. Harry always found a way to make the corners of his mouth turn up, make his heart flutter and it sucked. It fucking sucked to no end because as much as Louis wanted to hate him, he loved him still. Pushing himself off the bed, he sat, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand and pushing his hair away from his face.

There was no sign of Harry. His phone that was normally left on the night table was gone, his suitcase was unzipped and multiple ripped jeans spilled out of its contains. He was out, that much was apparent. Louis pressed his lips together, swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat.

He hated days like this. Nights were always easier, it was what made tour worthwhile. There were those gazes that Harry would give him when a tender line sung, one that burned right through him and Louis just couldn't shake it off. Not after that moment, not after a show because Harry would be relentless. He would step across the stage, brush his hand over his and there would be a split second where Louis’s heart would skip. As of late, Louis had tried to avoid Harry more often. He’d take the seat the farthest away from him, make sure to keep his gaze somewhere else when he felt the bright green eyes skim over him.

And the rest of the night did not give him any time to recover. The tidal wave that was Harry would swoop in because the boys were always so high on the exhilarating rush of just having played a live show. The screams and cries were still heard past all the closed doors and even when they were back at the hotel, things did not die down. Harry’s hands would slip and his lips would curl into that smirk that Louis both loved and loathed.

But nothing ever got easier. The touches, the glances, the whispers that would take place when he would demand that he wanted to room with the other boy although they all knew they had the money for separate hotel rooms. The issue with Harry was that he had a tendency to say things, like he was vomiting from the mouth and he said things just to say them and what do you know? The next day he says something completely different and practically denies his last said words.

A walking contradiction.

Yet, Louis knows this is all for show, that nothing he said on camera was true, a cover up because they were a band that depended on the swarm of young girls to keep them afloat in the industry. Louis managed to learn to brush it off. Or at least he thought he did. There was no way he could shake his boy, there was no way his stomach didn’t drop every time he lied to the press when they first had started, it was funny. It was amusing because the questions about them would be serious; they wanted to know if they were an actual couple and Harry’s lips would twitch and his eyes would connect with his blue ones and they’d smile and deny. It was some kind of game but the more it was played, the more dangerous and serious it got.

The more frequent the questions and rumors got, the more management wished to pull the plug.

_“I don’t understand,” Louis said slowly, shaking his head and brows knitted together._

_That morning the hotel telephone rang and told him not to leave his room at the scheduled time the boys had to be downstairs in the lobby to head to the venue for that nights show. One of the teams managers was named Savannah; she was a fair skinned and middle aged woman, her dark hair tightly pinned back away from her face in a ponytail, making her forehead look far too strained that Louis thought her hairline would burst at the seams._

_She sighed, her hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose and Louis suddenly felt far too small in the confides of the hotel room._

_“The attention you and Harry got was great, amusing really and you two are very affectionate. But you both have an image to look up to and it’s not looking good for neither one of you.”_

_Louis peered at her for a very long time with wide eyes and a confused expression pulling at the corners of his eyes.  “What’s not looking good?”_

_Louis wasn’t stupid and of course he knew what they were talking about. You weren’t supposed to be in love with your bandmate, your bandmate wasn’t supposed to be in love with you back. Louis never planned to have gotten to know Harry the way he had, he never meant to feel the need to lean over and kiss him that night after a long hours worth of rehearsing ‘Torn’ for the millionth time so they could perfect it when they perform at Simon’s beach house. He could remember it like it was the night before, he remembered how delighted Harry looked, how absolutely gone and tired but excited all the same. He remembered the low mumbles he replied with as Louis exploded with anticipation. And then they had stopped walking, pausing in the middle of the hallway and Louis leaned in first and he kissed him. Harry’s mouth had tasted like mint with the faintest hint of fruit punch which was odd but pleasant and Louis never felt so exhilarated. But he kissed him back never the less, lips fumbling to find the right pace before his hands came up to clutch softly at the pockets of Louis’ hoodie._

_Savannah’s eyes narrowed and Louis wondered if she thought he was stupid._

_“Your fanbase--it’s girls. They strive to believe in that someday they will meet you, marry you, that they have a chance with you. If this happens to get out that, well,” She paused and Louis was contemplating whether or not wringing her neck, regardless if she was a woman or not. “I think you see my point here.”_

_Louis didn’t reply for a very long time. The cup of tea he had been sipping at earlier was still sitting on the table, unattended and now cold. He felt sick to his stomach and no longer felt the warmth that the beverage had once provided._

_The worst part was Louis did see her point._

_His eyes met hers hesitatingly and Savannah gave him a small smile, something that was sad and made bile raise in the back of Louis’ throat. She left the room after that, the door clicking closed and Louis was left alone in his hotel room, feeling smaller and all the more vulnerable._

He forced himself out of bed, peeling off the last of his clothing and entering into the hotel bathroom, the scent of Harry’s shampoo fresh in the air, heavy and tiny droplets of water dotted the tiles on the inside of the bathroom, indicating it hadn’t been long since he was here. It always unsettled Louis the way he managed to do that to him, but he had to remind himself that this was Harry. Harry, that would get up in the morning and make him breakfast. Harry, the boy he loved. Harry, the boy he grew apart from.

Over the past year or two, the boys grew and so did the distance between them and it came to the point where they no longer supposed to sit together in case they would give the press the wrong idea. Or god forbid the fans. That was the whole point of their deal, to keep the fanbase in check and to sell themselves because of course sex _sells._

And that had been the beginning of their breakup.

Mainly, it had been Louis’ jealously. Harry was trying to be realistic and optimistic about this whole thing. Apparently, when management thought it was a good idea for Harry to mingle with female celebs, give himself the title of a womanizer, he hopped on board. It wasn’t that he liked it, in fact, Harry found it constantly annoying but it was the fact that he _agreed_ to it, that he did it when they asked, no matter what, where it was, who it is, it didn’t matter because Harry fucking Styles didn’t know when to say _no_. He did it because he was far too polite, he kissed girls because that was what he was supposed to do and in spite of it all, Eleanor was the perfect distraction.

Louis couldn't remember just how exactly he met her which was probably why the story was unclear to begin with but it didn't matter because Louis didn't feel a real _spark._ It just wasn't the same and honestly, Louis couldn't help but to feel indifferent toward her, especially at first because making Harry jealous was his top priority.

What made him so disgusted, was that it was considered wrong. It was unnatural to be attracted to a person. Not a gender, not a sex, but a personality and a soul. That he was attracted to Harry and that, just for some reason, everyone else came second. Eleanor was pretty, she was average but she just wasn’t _Harry_. She didn’t have that glow that he had, the room didn’t brighten when she walked in and Louis’ mind didn’t go racing whenever she was around. It was always Harry.

It was nerve wracking to talk to her or to be around her. Awkward kissing, awkward hand holding. It started as something that would have hopefully shown Harry that there would eventually be a time where they wouldn’t be together and someone would end up stealing the others attention, that he was done and over him and that one day, Harry would realize that Louis is no longer his. That he would man the fuck up and do something about it but no. _Congratulations, Lou._ And a pat on the back, the green in his eyes darkening and Louis knew that Harry was upset about it, that he absolutely gutted and it served him _right_.

But what did it matter?

This was what they wanted, what management wanted and what their culture wanted because Eleanor was ordinary and dating an ordinary girl meant that any other ordinary girl had a chance too. It was some sick, wank fest and it was wrong but that was how business worked.

A person couldn’t even live the way they wanted to because there was always the wonderment of what others thought of it at the back of your mind and once you have the slightest doubts, they eat and pick and succumb at what is wrong with it and instantly change your mind or make you into someone you weren’t.

But that's management for you.

 

*** * ***

_Louis frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and Harry looked over him, sighing with his hand coming up to rub at his eyes. There was something different, something that wasn’t right and Louis hated the way that Harry would do anything if it made the other person happy. He was the perfect host for a fucking parasite and he didn’t even realize it. And Louis was angry, he was so angry because Harry didn’t get it, he didn’t get the half of it and it sucked and that was the problem._

_“What are you doing?”_

_“I’m doing what they are telling me to do, Lou.”_

_“Fuck off, Haz. It’s bullshit.”_

_“It is, yeah.”_

_The plainness of Harry’s tone made his frown deepen and Louis couldn’t help but to hate him then._

_“So, what now, then?” the bitterness falls off his tongue like melted butter but Harry acts like he doesn’t notice._

_“What do you mean?”_

_For a moment, Harry looks hurt but Louis felt anything but. He was tired, irritable and all he wanted to was Harry’s comfort yet that was the exact fucking thing that was being destroyed._

_“Doesn’t it hurt you?”_

_Harry doesn’t respond, instead he looks incredulously at him like he said something he wasn’t supposed to, something dangerous and unspeak of and Louis wants to take something in the lobby and throw it and break it because he is breaking._

_“You know what hurts me.” Harry spits with his eyes darkening over and that’s when Louis knows he is truly angry. Louis can’t blame him though, yet he still feels that sudden emptiness in his chest that makes him want to rid his stomach of his breakfast. All because he was being the biggest fucking hypocrite in the world._

_He is saying this more as a statement rather than a question because Louis knows what Harry is talking about, he knew perfectly well and for the first time, Louis didn’t know how to react. He couldn’t come up with a witty and snarky remark, couldn’t say he was sorry because he was but he wasn’t at the same time and he couldn’t break Harry more than he should be doing. Louis was already being so spiteful that it scared him because Louis didn’t know how to get out of it. For the first time, he didn’t know what to say to make Harry feel better because he didn’t want to make him feel better but at the same time that was all he wanted. He wanted Harry to be happy and he wasn’t even doing that right._

_“What are you doing, Lou?”_

_Suddenly everything is shifted and now it is Louis on the line rather than Harry. He is walking a fine line and Louis’ throat closes up because he is torn. He is torn from doing everything he wants to do, the good and the bad and he doesn’t know which one is worse because he can’t take it anymore._

_Louis says the first thing that comes to mind, his voice soft and tone low as if the only thing he could muster was a whisper. “I’m trying to get over you.”_

 

*** * ***

Halloween was when Louis broke.

If Louis was being honest with himself (and he wasn’t doing that very well), he missed him. But he wanted to somehow make Harry suffer, make him _know_ what he is doing is complete and total shit, yet what Louis was doing was even worse. Harry was doing it for management and publicity. Louis was doing it just to piss Harry off royally.

The night had been going well, the boys dressing up just to get drunk at a small get together. They managed to dress up as a few members of Kiss and yet, Harry took a different route. Harry was practically naked with only nude colored briefs, and judging by the amount of drinks he had, he was completely and totally smashed. Lets just say, he gave the name Miley Cyrus a whole different outlook.

But he couldn’t stop _staring_ and that was the problem.

Louis and Eleanor had been ready to make two years (and by god, Louis didn’t even know how he made it that far). The thought itself crossed his mind when he left the party to find a bathroom, ready to wash off all that makeup from his face, white and black coating the wet piece of wash cloth.

He himself had a few drinks, Louis enjoying the buzz and feeling quite light. And that was when Harry decided to show up. In nothing with those boxers and a stench of vodka on his breath, leaning in the doorway with his hips jutting out. Cheeks red, eyes bloodshot and a wide grin on his face.

“Hi, Lou.”

Louis had turned in the direction of where the voice came, blinking in an attempt to focus his vision, water droplets suspending from his cheeks and forehead. The blue of his eyes skimmed carefully over the body in front of him, that stenciled butterfly and the two swallows that rested just underneath Harry’s collarbone. His mind raced to a time where Louis had him pinned below him, Harry grinning that stupid grin up at him as he littered kisses on that very same spot.

Louis didn’t say anything. He didn’t want his voice to break because Harry always knew and that was one of the things that he hated. He always somehow knew what he was feeling when he was feeling it and had been the same when it came to Harry.

He _knew_ Harry wanted only him and yet he could not give in, Louis had to drag this out for as long as possible and show him just how angry he was. Hadn’t it been enough already though?

Harry crossed into the bathroom, practically stumbling into Louis’ arms, especially since he reached out to stop him from falling. His head found the crook of his neck, the taller boy’s breath tickling the skin of his shoulder. The beating of Louis’ heart fucked him up. It made him carefully place his hands on Harry’s hips just as his own traveled up his chest and Louis could feel the heat of his palms through the thin black tee shirt. A breath past Louis lips, sounding more like a sigh, even to his own ears. It gave himself away, that he _missed_ him. Harry’s lips were addicting though, they flitted over his jaw-line and cheek until finally Louis gave in and he let him kiss him. The kiss he had given him next was a mess, sloppy and if Louis focused long enough, he could recall what it was like to have his hips digging into his own as they kissed against the bathroom counter.

There was a part of Louis that hoped there was no recollection or retelling of what happened the next day. That it was nonexistent, it was smoke that drifted toward the ceiling and dispersed into thin air. That as far as Harry was concerned, that part of the night didn’t happen at all. That it didn’t stop Louis from missing him and it gave him another reason to hurt.

But Harry did remember because that next morning he woke up and Louis wasn't in bed with him and over breakfast he would give him pleading looks, quiet over his breakfast and everyone thought he was just hungover but Louis knew better.

And he hated him for caring.

Maybe Louis was being a little bitch about this whole thing because Harry had been drunk and when he even expressed to the boys the next morning that he blacked out, Louis furiously left the table. It wasn't true when Harry had been whispering sweet nothings into Louis' ear all night and that was what pissed Louis off the most because he was pretending, pretending for him but this was all Louis' fault to begin with.

Maybe making Harry pay, making him hurt for what he did was wrong. Maybe Louis was the one that was supposed to be in agonizing pain and yet he was because no one was winning. Harry was ultimately heart broken because of him and Louis was trying to make a point but as it went on, nothing made sense and he forgot the real reason why.

 

*** * ***

_Harry is staring at him and Louis’ eyes are fixated to the carpet at his feet, too scared to move or look up into those green eyes or breathe or do anything. He wanted to melt, he wanted to crumble into dust at Harry’s feet and he didn’t want to have to deal with anything anymore. The silence was what drove him into insanity because it was white fucking noise, an eerie silence that said everything but nothing._

_“What did I do?” Harry asks then and Louis wants to fucking cry._

_He doesn’t care anymore, he can’t keep caring because he wasn’t Harry. Harry was sincere, he was a beautiful person inside and out and Louis loved him but love never lasted because just look at his parents._

_Eleanor was a girl he knew, come to know, come to like but she wasn’t Harry and that was the part that hurt the most. He couldn’t be with him._

_That wasn’t how things went, wasn’t how they worked and when Harry was supposed to be doing his job, Louis was out trying to make Harry feel like a piece of shit for doing so and he trying to punish him, he was trying to get over him because he didn’t want everything to hurt this bad and if he didn’t love Harry, then everything would have been fine, everything would have been okay and they would have had nothing to worry about. They wouldn’t have to worry about fans or management or hate or love or anything. They would just be mates again but Louis didn’t know how to be Harry’s mate because they weren’t ever really friends to begin with, just crushes that developed into something beautiful and why couldn’t anyone see that or understand how they felt about it all? Did it ever really matter?_

_Louis doesn’t respond because he physically can’t bring himself to do it. Harry will break and as much as he wanted for it to happen, he didn’t want to see it. Well, he did because he wanted to be over Harry, wanted to at least get over what was keeping them in this stand still kind of space and yet he can’t even fucking look at him because that meant looking at what he was going to lose. Louis was going to lose too much right now and he couldn’t afford it; he didn’t want to lose Harry. He had become such a stable part of his life and here he was, telling him that he wanted to get over him, wanted to stop loving him._

_But he didn’t, that was the thing._

_Louis makes a move toward the door of the hotel room because he doesn’t want to face this reality anymore. Harry grabs him by the elbow as he makes way and Louis pulls his arm so fast out of his grip, he sways but recovers seconds later._

_“Louis,” he heard Harry say but he can’t look at him, not right now, not like this and Louis feels his chest ache. He’s too afraid his voice will crack and he is staring at the door._

_“It’s too much. We wouldn’t have lasted anyway.”_

_The words cut right through him even after he is done saying it and he wants to scream, he wants to yell and throw a fit and hit Harry and kiss him but he just can’t. Harry doesn’t say anything and that is more of a confirmation that Louis fucked everything up._

 

  
_  
_*** * ***

Louis could fucking count the number of girls Harry hooked up with after that. Okay, maybe he didn’t sleep with them and was never seriously dating and did it as public stunts because he was the fucking womanizer of the group, but honestly. At least Louis pretended to be with _one_ fucking girl for _two years._

He still thinks about it because he is bitter and Louis will always admit it to himself but never out loud.

It just wasn’t _fair_ and every time he saw him with someone, it was just a reminder that he was slipping farther and farther away from him but this was Louis’ fault. It was all his fault because he was jealous, he was angry; angry at their management and angry at Harry because he could have said no but he didn’t because Harry never _ever_ wishes to disappoint and Louis _hated_ that.

So, he resulted into giving Harry the cold shoulder because giving in would be worse. At least ignoring him, ignoring the gazes he gave him, everything,  meant that he wouldn’t have to deal with  it, not right now.

_“Louis, please just talk to me.” He pleaded one afternoon, that god forsaken headband wrapped around his head._

_Louis pretended to busy himself with materials on his dresser, nothing in particular, as long as it kept his hands busy and was hoping that at any moment, Lou would steal Harry away or something and clip off that fucking pony tail he is sporting from time to time with a pair of fucking scissors because god, he needed a haircut._

_“I can’t right now.” was all he replied and when Lou had finally stole him away, he couldn’t look up into the mirror to see the hurt and longing flicker in his eyes as Harry left._

_Louis’ hands stopped fumbling with whatever he could find, placing his palms flat on the surface and breathing out a breath he was fully aware he was holding._

_Nothing got easier._

A few doors down was were the other boys resided, voices gathering and echoing down the hallway. He could have sworn as he stepped in front of the door, Harry’s laughter sounded. The corner of Louis’ mouth twitched slightly and upon opening the door, he had been the first person he saw. Messy hair pushed back, green eyes glowing, dressed up in black and boots with a grin forever plastered on his mouth. And their eyes met briefly, Harry pressing his lips together in a small smile. Louis’ quivered and then his gaze averted.

As they always did.

The day carried on as planned. Just another day brainstorming lyrics for the next album even though their third just dropped about a month or so ago. New material was needed but Louis couldn’t fucking think straight because he could feel Harry’s eyes on him and he wanted him to _stop_.

He knew he was trying to get his attention somehow but Louis wouldn’t budge because that meant Harry would get his hopes up and Louis just couldn’t deal with that right now.  Harry liked to ask questions and that meant there was a possibility--no, Louis was certain that of course he would want to talk about last night but Louis was unsure himself if that’s what he wanted to discuss.

Last night had been the first time months. Maybe even years, Louis didn’t really know. It felt like an eternity and he could still feel Harry on him, against him and he had been unsure himself just how it all happened.

Louis kept his door unlocked that night and Harry took advantage of this, took his suitcase with him and set it next to Louis’. The older boy hadn’t been asleep and he was distinctly aware of Harry in his room, of him pulling back the covers to climb into bed next to him and press his warm body against him. Louis’ eyes closed when Harry’s cheek touched his bare shoulder, pressing light kisses and he almost wanted to roll over and kick him out of his bedroom but Louis just couldn’t.

“I miss you, Lou,” he sighs into Louis’ neck and the older boy draws his bottom lip into his mouth from letting out a sigh of his own.

“I miss you and I miss how we used to be. I miss how it used to be just us and I wish we could just go back.”

Louis can feel Harry’s fingertips over his skin and he is hyper aware of every move that Harry is making. Every touch is like a spark to his skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut before Harry is rolling over onto his side and leaving Louis’ side of the bed awfully cold.

He hadn’t done something like this since the X Factor days and the memory hits Louis like a ton of bricks.

_“Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?” He asks, drawing circles into the skin of Louis’ forearm and he watches him carefully._

_“No,” Louis replies and Harry nods and doesn’t say anything because he always respected Louis’ decisions. He was such a good boy, a good friend and Harry never judged Louis once. His innocence was what kept him afloat because he was only sixteen and he had his whole life to live._

_They are shirtless and in their boxers and Harry climbed the ladder up to Louis' bunk because he couldn't sleep. Louis didn't mind, they had done this a few times before when they weren't ready to go to sleep, when Liam expressed they had a big day in the morning and needed sleep and Niall and Zayn obliged because what else was there to do, really?_

_"I thought about getting some. Dunno, a couple, I guess." Harry is whispering and scoots himself closer into Louis' chest and his arm around Harry's shoulder is drawing patterns into the skin of his shoulder blade._

_"What kind of tattoos?" Louis whispers back, his eyes flitting from Harry's fingers to the bright green of his eyes that he can still make out even in the dark._

_Louis can see the ghost of a smile start on Harry’s lips and his own curve at the wonderment of what he is thinking._

_“Something with my mum. Gem,” and he pauses for a long time, his lips slightly pursing before he draws his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing softly and Louis almost brings his thumb up under his chin to stop him. “And you.”_

_Louis fights from snorting because although it’s such a stupid idea, he is oddly flattered. “Couple tattoos,” he tests the words on his tongue as if attempting to see how it might taste. “Kind of nice, ‘suppose.” he decides in the darkness, even if he is unsure of the eternal promise._

_“Is that what we are, Lou? A couple?”_

_Louis’ heart swells and he gazes down at Harry again, this time bringing his hand up to brush his thumb over his bottom lip, a small smile tugging at his mouth because he was so adorable and he was his. Harry’s lips part and he wants to kiss him again._

_“Yes. But that would mean we would have to stay together, doesn’t it?”_

_Harry blinks and he smiles wide and he nods a little more forcefully than before, his curls bouncing at the sides of his head and Louis lets out a small laugh, running a hand through his curls before he finally pulled him down to kiss him._

Matching tattoos, including couple tattoos, has a taboo. The couple would then be destined for bad luck and would end in disaster.

If Louis had known that then, he would have told sixteen year old Harry and then perhaps they wouldn’t be where they are. Or perhaps they would, there was no telling and it didn’t matter anyway because they were where they were and there was no time machine that Louis could take to fix it.

_It is what it is._

The day goes on and they get about six and a half songs done before they all become irritable. Louis and Zayn take the open field outside to play football while Liam and Niall goes off to do god knows what and Harry is left alone in the studio because he wants to be by himself when he writes. Louis doesn’t mind because that means he wouldn’t have to deal with him but his stomach drops at the thought each time because something is off, it has to be.

It doesn’t take long before the sun goes down and Zayn becomes tired and leaves Louis by himself. When it comes to the point where it becomes so dark that Louis can longer see the football in front of him, he kicks it hard into the air, bumps it with his shoulder and collapses onto the ground with his limbs sprawled out, the football falling a few feet away from his head.

He stays like that for a while because he likes being outside and no one could really bother him here. No fans and maybe management or Paul could come and disturb him at any moment to tell him to come inside but otherwise, he was content. The sky was dark and stars were pretty and the night air was chill with winter coming on.

He liked it.

The grass rustled behind him and for a moment he thought it was Zayn but it wasn’t. Harry plopped down clumsily next to him and Louis holds his breath for a long time before stars dot his vision and he has to take in a breath of air.

“Last night,” Harry starts and Louis shakes his head as if to stop him.

“It was no big deal. I’m kinda used to it, you know?”

Harry pauses and he is not looking at Louis and he is thankful that he isn’t. His lips are together, brow slightly furrowed and his hands are together and are sitting low on his stomach.

“You were awake.” he states calmly and Louis’ chest feels anything but.

He doesn’t get to say anything, doesn’t get to nod because he is trying to hold it together and he is slipping so fast that Louis doesn’t know what to do.

“Do you remember,” he started slowly and Louis turned to look at him. “When we first became a band and how close we were.” Harry pauses and the silence feels like a lifetime. “You were my best friend and I loved you then and I love you still.”

Louis doesn’t speak for a long time. The night sky around them seems crushing until finally he breaks the pause between them. “I remember.” he answers in a whisper, averting his gaze back up toward the stars because looking at Harry meant looking at something you lost but is still in close reach. Like a favorite toy you give to your sibling because your parents tell you you’re too old for it when you don’t care but they still make you do it anyway. Except Harry wasn’t a toy. Louis loved him and saying he remembered was all he could do because admitting he was still in love with him meant feeling and he had been so numb for so long that he didn’t know how to feel anymore.

He could see Harry turn on his side, resting his head in his hand as he studied the older boy closely, the intensity of Harry’s gaze crushing. He never minded though; Harry was so observant, his eyes wide and bright and it was everything Louis loved about him.

“Do you still love me?” he asks and its the most risky thing he could do even if he knew the answer.

Louis’ eyes close and he laughs before he could stop himself. It’s something small and breathless and he likes how Harry is asking this kind of thing. It’s natural for him to do so though, because they have been in a fall out for so long and Harry is making sure that nothing had changed and that nothing is changing.

“What do you think?” Louis says instead because admitting it now meant no turning back. It meant facing the fact that Louis was still in love with him and he fell for him everyday, more and more. _I will love you forever. I loved you then and I love you still and I will always love you, no one will ever come close to you, it was always you and it will always be you._

Harry doesn’t say anything, looking thoughtful, his lips slightly parted as they always were when he was thinking long about something. Louis held his breath, waiting for Harry’s answer and wondering just what he thought of him and what he thought Louis felt toward him. “I think you hate me. I don’t know what I did, or maybe I do, I just--dunno. I thought I was doing what we were supposed to do.”

He wasn’t so surprised by his answer but it still hurt. “You were. _God_ , Harry--you were.” Louis’ voice catches in his breath and he blinks at Harry for too long.

And then suddenly the weight of guilt crushes his lungs and heart and stomach and everything hurts all over again. Louis gets up from the soft mesh of the ground, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face like he can’t deal with anything right now because he can’t and the drop in his stomach tells him that he knew this was going to happen and he hates himself for getting trapped, for setting himself up for this.

He’s already on his feet before Harry can sit up or possibly say something but he does and Louis pretends he doesn’t hear him, a loud buzz in his ears that temporarily impairs him. He can’t hear over the loud roar of his blood pumping in his veins because he is scared and it all sucks and he simply wishes he could evaporate in thin air so he didn’t have to deal with it anymore. He wanted Harry but he fucked up, fucked up everyday for two years straight and how could Harry ever forgive him or that and yet he is still telling him that he loved him, that he loves him still even after all the bullshit.

He starts for the back entrance of the building and is thankful that the rest of the boys were nowhere to be found. Busy, distracted, whatever, didn't matter because Louis wanted to be alone and yet he could hear Harry's heavy footsteps behind him. His legs ache and his breathing is slightly hitched but he needed to get out, needed room to fucking breathe because he couldn’t take it. Harry is already close on Louis' trail and after the door slammed behind him, Louis bringing his hands up to his face to try and regain control of himself, but the door is reopened by none other than Harry himself.

The fluorescent lighting makes Louis’ eyes sting and he feels like crying but he wills his leg to move faster, toward the dressing room although he was sure Harry would follow. Louis learned when and when not to walk away from Harry long ago, ignoring him was his best bet and had been for years but that only made the hurt far worse to deal with. Harry missed him, Louis missed him and the hurt never died. Perhaps they adapted, but now it was like the wound was being reopened because they weren't allowed to talk about how much they missed each other or loved each other. Their love was supposed to die, they were supposed to smile and laugh about the good times and forget about the bad because that was in the past but that wasn't what was happening and Louis felt like breaking something, breaking anything.

And he clammers into the dressing room like he is ready to collapse and Harry is piercing his back with his gaze. "Louis," he says again and this time Louis snaps.

"How can you still love me after everything? How can this still work?" He is screaming at the tops of his lungs, the vein in his neck twitching and he is shaking, his hands are shaking and tears are brimming his eyes and wetting the bottom of his lashes.

“We haven’t been together in two years and you still love me. But I hated you, I hated how easily we were pulled apart even if we tried to make it work and I hated you because you’re so good and you never say no and I wanted you to say no even if that wasn’t what we were supposed to do. I hate you,” he spits and Harry flinches. He is quiet, lips together and at his sides and Louis can see the way he swallows hard that he wants to cry too and Louis thinks he just might. That’s good, Louis thinks. That’s good, it’s great, fantastic and yet the wetness at Louis cheeks suggests that its not because _he_ is crying now.

Harry’s jaw tensed but not out of anger and Louis hates himself for breaking first. Harry steps forward with his hand stretched out as if to touch him and Louis flinches, wincing although he was far from touching him and he puts his own hand up to stop him but he is torn because he doesn’t know what he wants.

“I feel like punching you.” Louis goes on, swallowing hard and shaking his head at him. “I want to punch you and I hate you,” his voice breaks, cracking underneath the weight of it all and Harry’s lips part as if it’s a confession.

“I just love you so much.” Louis finally whispers in the silence that Harry refused to break and his expression softens, the crease in his forehead gone and Louis edges toward him because he needs him now more than ever.

He is moving quickly, crossing the space of the dressing room and Harry is there to meet him halfway. Louis touches his face, cupping his cheeks in his hands and Harry’s hands come to Louis’ waist, Louis climbing up on his tip toes and all it all happens so fast and Louis is kissing him and Harry is kissing him back.

Their lips moved so smoothly as they always would and Harry’s mouth tastes just as Louis remembers and he sighs into his mouth because he missed him, the skin of his cheeks soft underneath the rough pads of Louis’ fingers and he is kissing him desperately like they hadn’t kissed like this in over two years because they hadn’t. He missed his lips, his taste and touch and in response, Harry’s grip on his waist tightened, pulling Louis closer to him until their chests touched.

Louis could feel Harry’s longing in his kiss, in the way he was pulling Louis into him and he missed this, missed him and Louis hated just how complete he felt then, like a weight was being lifted on his shoulders, his stomach tightening but only for a moment.

He is gripping the back of Harry’s neck so hard his fingertips hurt and Harry’s feet are shuffling backwards until his back hits a wall and Louis is flush against him. His chest hurts but he keeps kissing him, trailing his lips over the sharpness of his jaw-line and Harry half moans, the vibration of his throat strumming against Louis’ lips, the older boy’s hand falling to the buckle of his belt.

They don’t part until several long moments later, wrapped and tangled in each other’s limbs and their clothes scattered about the dressing room. Louis’ cheeks are red and he is laying in between Harry’s parted legs, Harry still coming down from his climax, his chest heaving heavily and Louis is tracing the butterfly at his torso with his head tilted. A smile is playing at his lips but when his finger pauses and he is gazing at Harry’s flushed and freshly fucked expression, he blinks several times and the smile dissolves.

“I’m sorry,” he says weakly and Harry opens his eyes just enough to focus on him, eyes lidded and peering at him through his long lashes.

“It’s not enough, but I am.” Louis goes on and he swallows hard. “It was my fault and I’m sorry and I love you.”

Harry doesn’t say anything. He is gazing up at him and he brings his hand up to push Louis’ sweaty fringe off his forehead, Louis involuntarily sighing and eyes closing for a brief moment. The press of Harry’s lips is all he needs as reassurance.

“We’re gonna be alright, Lou.” he mumbles into his mouth and it was everything that Louis needed to hear.

Louis knows that apologizing is not enough and perhaps it will never be enough. But that doesn’t stop him from trying to make it up to him. Every little moment counted; every glance, every kiss, every brush of their knuckles. He wanted to make up for it and Harry wanted it too.

When it got hard, they were there for each other. Louis let Harry comfort him and he comforted Harry in return. It was a give and take and give some more kind of deal because that’s what they were supposed to do.

And gradually, things got easier.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so yeah dunno if it made sense or not but i hope you all liked it :')


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